


The Untitled

by emeraldwitch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 18:20:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17688476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldwitch/pseuds/emeraldwitch
Summary: This is a series of three (3) stories I wrote which were supposed to be drabbles; but got away from me as they tend to do. These were received better than those in my "drabbles" collection; and as such have been collected as a separate work. They are not necessarily related and can be read independently.





	1. The Blank Chapter

Just here to be a place holder because I dislike how the summary for the entire work shows up at the top of the first chapter if not.


	2. Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pure Dean Winchester x Reader fluff.

It had been an exceedingly long hunt; but you’d finally found the vamp’s nest. Finally after two long weeks and more scrapes and cuts than you cared to think about, you’d taken them down. After the final vampire was decapitated, you lit the condemned house on fire to get rid of the bodies. Unfortunately you were standing closer than intended and had wound up with a nasty burn on your forearm.

When you got back to the bunker, Dean patched you up like he always did. Sure, Sam was capable, but Dean always insisted on doing it. He bandaged the burn first, careful not to cause undue pain as he wrapped it. Then he lifted the hem of your shirt and proceeded to stitch the shallow stab wound from the leader’s brief attempt at bargaining.

“Let’s get some sleep,” he said after tying off the thread. “We’ll check that burn in the morning.”

You stood up, stiff from the hunt and from sitting still for Dean to play medic, and made your way to your room. Once the door closed behind you, you broke down. The stress of the hunt, of being used to bait the boys, it all hit you at once; and you couldn’t stop the tears that came.

You curled in on yourself, back against the door, and tried to stay as quiet as possible. Dean’s room was right across the hall; and you didn’t want him to think you couldn’t handle a simple hunt.

You jumped when someone knocked on your door. “You okay in there, sweetheart?”

Of course it was Dean. You couldn’t be so lucky as to get Sam, who would comfort you quietly; or Castiel, who probably wouldn’t notice if he heard. No, Sam was still in the library; and you had no idea where Cas had gotten to this time; but Dean? He was right outside your door, waiting for a response.

“I’m fine, gorgeous,” you tried to lie, hoping he’d laugh off the pet name and go on.

“Open the door?” Because of course, Dean Winchester, master of concealed emotions, would know you were lying.

You stood and opened the door, letting your hair hide your face. “What’s wrong, dollface?” He asked, pushing your hair back before stepping into your room.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” you told him again, sitting down on the bed.

“You don’t look fine,” he responded, sitting next to you. “Pretty far from it.”

“Thanks.” You tried to laugh but it came out as more of a choked whistle.

“Tell me what’s up,” he insisted, voice soft and concerned.

“I just feel like I’m a danger on hunts. The bad guys? They see me and they know you and Sam will tear the world apart to get to me.”

“You’re damn right,” Dean assured you, leaning against the headboard and pulling you to sit between his outstretched legs. This was how he got you to talk, by making sure you didn’t feel like you had to face him.

“But it’s a hazard, for both of you!” You couldn’t believe he was being so calm. He hummed thoughtfully and played with your hair.

“You know what happened before you started hunting with us? When the bad guys wanted to put on a show? They’d take Sammy. It’s happened a lot. It doesn’t stop us from hunting together, and you’re no different.”

“But Sam can take care of himself,” you insisted, wondering what Dean found so fascinating about your hair. He’d gone from running his fingers through it to twisting it in on itself; and you were sure it would be a tangled mess when he finished. You didn’t complain, though. It was soothing to focus on something so minor.

“He can, but so can you, sweetheart,” he told you, reaching for your hand. Instead of holding it, he took the hair tie from your wrist. “There, pretty girl, now get some rest.”

You reached behind your head and felt your hair. He hadn’t been aimlessly twisting it, he’d been braiding it.

“When did you learn to do that?” You smiled now, for the first time since you’d been home from the hunt.

“Claire taught me so I could prank Sam on a hunt once. He sleeps like the dead, woke up with pigtails.” Dean laughed at the memory of Sam’s reaction, and you laughed with him. When Dean was happy, rare as it was, it was infectious.

“Hey, Dean?” You were hesitant to ask your next question; but you proceeded at the quiet ‘hmm?’ from behind you. “Would you mind sleeping here tonight?”

“Anything you want, babydoll.” He kissed the top of your head before sliding down the mattress, bringing you along with him.


	3. Sam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein I beat up on Sam just a little bit; but he's comforted by the reader.

Sam fixes things. It’s always been his position in the family. Dean sails in half-cocked and Sam picks up the pieces. He saves everyone he can, but especially Dean. That’s who he is, and he doesn’t know any other way to be.

Sometimes, though, the weight gets to be too much. Then he turns to you. He knows that when he comes in, shoulders drooping, you’ll pat the side of your bed and pull back the covers for him to lay down next to you. You’ll turn on some inane movie, maybe it’s a chick flick, maybe it’s a B-rated horror film. It doesn’t matter because he won’t watch it.

Instead, he’ll lay his head on your chest and curl around you as much as he can without crushing you under his weight; and you’ll run your fingers through his hair. You’ll rub his back, and draw senseless patterns over the back of his neck. This will continue until he eventually nuzzles his face as close to your skin as he can, and then he falls asleep. You continue to play with his hair until the movie ends; and then you’ll turn on your side. You wrap around each other like a pile of puppies; and you fall asleep like that.

When you wake up in the morning, you’ll have a stiff neck, and Sam will complain about his shoulder; but when he gets out of bed to make breakfast, he’s standing at his full height again, moving with purpose.

Sometimes, Sam just needs to be protected, to let the weight of the world rest anywhere else for a night; and then he picks it back up, and carries on until the next night he comes to you looking like a kicked puppy and the cycle begins anew.


	4. Henry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where the reader has to watch our resident time traveler and realizes she likes him after all.

Henry is arguably the worst hunter you’ve ever met. So much so that Sam and Dean no longer let him accompany them on hunts. Dean says that the man has all the grace and stealth of a drunken flamingo and he will not let all the work he did to put him back together go to waste.

He did, after all. After Abbadon attacked him, Dean somehow - no one is quite sure how - field dressed his wounds and got him back to the bunker where Cas healed him. Dean thinks it’s his job to protect everyone including his grandfather.

So no, Henry isn’t allowed to hunt. He is a Man of Letters; and he provides them with any information they may need from the safety of the bunker.

When you broke your leg in a bar brawl with a vamp, you were sidelined. Sam tried to make you feel better by telling you that you could help with research but that was unnecessary.

You knew you couldn’t hunt on crutches, but it was still difficult to watch the boys leave alone. You also weren’t sure what to make of Henry as your caretaker. “I’m fine,” you would periodically assure him.

He never listened. He was very old fashioned that way. Breakfast was at 7, lunch was at noon, and dinner was at 6. He made sure you ate at each meal even if it meant that he was bringing you pot roast and mashed potatoes on a tray to your room.

The hunt went on longer than expected and you had no idea how long you were going to be dealing with Nurse Henry. By the third day, you stopped worrying about it. He made the bunker feel like home, taking on the domestic things that you usually did when you weren’t injured.

You wandered down the hall to stretch your good leg, and found him washing dishes and singing some old jazz song that you only vaguely recognized. “I came to get a cup of coffee,” you said, startling him.

“Of course. Go lie back down and I’ll bring it to you,” he said, turning back to the dishes.

“I’m tired of lying down, Henry. I’m not an invalid and it’s lonely.”

“At least sit down then. Please?” He didn’t turn around this time, satisfied by the sound of the chair scraping the hardwood. “How do you take your coffee?” He asked after he’d put the last dish aside to dry.

“Just black, thank you,” you told him. He poured two cups of black coffee and sat down next to you at the table.

Of course you had noticed he was attractive in the past, even telling Dean that it ran in the family; but having him so close to you was different. For the first time, you noticed that he had a faint blush to his cheeks; and since there was nothing that should have embarrassed him, you assumed it had always been there. His eyes were unnerving, a pale sparkling blue that seemed to stare into your soul. At the same time, he was incredibly gentle and easy to get along with. He really wasn’t suited to be a hunter.

When he spoke, his voice was soft and almost musical. His movements were far more graceful than Dean gave him credit for, although you had seen him trip up the stairs to the kitchen… So maybe he did have a klutzy streak.

“Are you alright?” He asked, resting his hand on yours to get your attention. “You’ve been staring at that same spot on the wall for the last ten minutes.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I was thinking.” You tried not to get sucked back into your daydream, which had been rapidly spiralling toward the potential realization of feelings that you just weren’t prepared to handle.

“What were you thinking about?” His tone was curious, not prying.

“Nothing important,” you told him. “I don’t feel like going back to bed. Would you watch a movie with me?”

“Of course. Do you want to take your coffee with you?” He seemed genuinely excited to spend time with you, and it made your heart flutter in a way you werent entirely okay with.

“You? Suggesting we take drinks out of the kitchen?” You pretended to be surprised.

“I have to assimilate eventually.” He smiled and helped you to your feet before picking up both coffee cups and following you into the viewing room.

Once you were settled on the sofa, he handed your cup back to you and took his place a respectable distance away.

“Henry, in this century men and women can sit on the same piece of furniture without being married.” You laughed quietly as he adjusted, moving only slightly closer as you started the film.

Before the movie was halfway over, he was yawning. You refused to admit to yourself that it was adorable. You pulled the blanket from the back of the sofa and threw it over your legs, scooting closer so you could share.

“Are you sure this is acceptable?” He asked. “You’d have yourself quite a reputation in my day.”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you told him. “We’re friends, just sharing a blanket.”

That was the same thing you told yourself when you started to drift off, leaning into his shoulder. You were nearly asleep when he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and gently kissed the top of your head.

You shifted so that you could see his face. “I’m sorry, that was very foward of me,” he told you when he realized you were awake.

“No, it’s okay. It’s cute,” you muttered, still half asleep.

He patted your shoulder and pulled the blanket up further. “Alright. We’ll talk about this when you wake up, if you like.”

You made a vague noise of approval before snuggling into his chest and falling asleep completely.


	5. The Empty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus fourth ficlet in which the Empty gives up and kicks everyone out because they're all awake and really, really annoying. No pairing, mostly crack, focused on Mary Winchester trying to corral multiple undead angels.

“Who are all these people?” Mary asks, hand on hip, staring into the library. She knows some of them, but not all.

“Hey, babe. Glad to be back.” It’s Lucifer, grinning at her.

“I will punch you in the face,” Mary reminds him. Gabriel laughs at this, not bothering to hide it.

“These are my bothers… Brothers. I meant brothers,” Lucifer continues, ignoring Mary’s threat. At least she doesn’t have those brass knuckles. He hopes.

“So they’re archangels?” Mary isn’t happy, and Gabriel learned a long time ago that an unhappy Winchester is dangerous.

“Yeah, mama,” he says. He hopes she’ll relax a bit at his joke, but she doesn’t.

“What am I supposed to do with them?” She’s speaking to Gabriel directly now, disinclined to trust any of the others.

“I’d keep Luci here with us, we might need him; but the others need to go back to Heaven… Before the lights go out and we have another billion or so ghosts to worry about.”

“Alright. I’m trusting your judgement, Gabriel,” Mary says, waving her hand toward the others. They’re being strangely cooperative; but that’s a problem for another time, after she saves her son.

“A terrible decision, really,” Lucifer mutters under his breath.

“Shut the hell up!” Mary tells him, wondering if there’s such thing as an Enochian baseball bat that she can beat him with.

The other archangels disperse, hopefully to Heaven; and Mary turns her attention back to Gabriel. “How did you all get here?”

“When Castiel woke up that… Thing. It woke us up too. It got so tired of hearing Luci sing, and the others bitch, that it kicked us all back to Earth.”

“Leave it to angels to annoy an ancient cosmic entity to the point that it kicks them out.” Mary shakes her head and turns to leave. “Do something with that until we need it,” she points to Lucifer.

“Sure thing, mama. Where’s Dean’s big box of drama?”

“Dungeon,” she says, stomping off. She has no idea how she’s going to explain this to the boys.

As she’s leaving, she hears Gabriel say: “alright, into the pain closet, jackass.”


End file.
